


Don't Jeopardize the Mission

by kjack89



Series: Les Avengers [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marvel Avengers Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Les Amis as Avengers, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally intended as an interlude between Demon in a Bottle and a multichaptered sequel to tie up a loose end I accidentally left open from the previous fic, but I’ve lost motivation for the sequel, so I’m just going to post this as is. Based as always on the Marvel Cinematic Universe, particularly drawing from both Captain America films. Takes place about three days following the events in the final chapters of Demon in a Bottle.</p><p>The national guardsman referenced in this fic is meant to refer to Tom Hooper’s interpretation of Hadley Fraser’s character in the Les Mis film (<em>"You have no chance, no chance at all, why throw your lives away..."</em>) and a bit also to the guardsman that Enjolras shoots in the book.</p><p>I want to add a specific and possibly unnecessary disclaimer for my readers who are also Marvel fans: This fic is not intended as a stance in favor of shipping either Stony (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark) or Stucky (Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes), nor is it an indictment of either ship, for a very simple reason: Enjolras is not Steve Rogers (that will be particularly clear here when more of his backstory is revealed), nor is Grantaire Tony Stark, nor yet is the character that I’ve named Jacques “Jacquot” Frater Bucky Barnes. Shipping Enjolras-as-Captain-France with Grantaire-as-Iron-Man over Enjolras-as-Captain-France with sorta-OMC-as-a-Bucky-Similar-Character is not my way of coming down on the side of Stony versus Stucky.</p><p>If this disclaimer seems silly or irrelevant, I apologize, but I know how deeply feelings can run on either ship in the Marvel fandom and I would never intentionally alienate those who are wonderful enough to read my fics. And for the record, I ship any ship that involves Steve Rogers having lots and lots of sex ;)</p><p>With that said, parts of this are vaguely NSFW with my usual hints at smut without actually writing it. </p><p>Other than that, the usual disclaimer applies because I continue to not own anything, despite my vast profits from fanfic writing. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Don't Jeopardize the Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended as an interlude between Demon in a Bottle and a multichaptered sequel to tie up a loose end I accidentally left open from the previous fic, but I’ve lost motivation for the sequel, so I’m just going to post this as is. Based as always on the Marvel Cinematic Universe, particularly drawing from both Captain America films. Takes place about three days following the events in the final chapters of Demon in a Bottle.
> 
> The national guardsman referenced in this fic is meant to refer to Tom Hooper’s interpretation of Hadley Fraser’s character in the Les Mis film ( _"You have no chance, no chance at all, why throw your lives away..."_ ) and a bit also to the guardsman that Enjolras shoots in the book.
> 
> I want to add a specific and possibly unnecessary disclaimer for my readers who are also Marvel fans: This fic is not intended as a stance in favor of shipping either Stony (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark) or Stucky (Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes), nor is it an indictment of either ship, for a very simple reason: Enjolras is not Steve Rogers (that will be particularly clear here when more of his backstory is revealed), nor is Grantaire Tony Stark, nor yet is the character that I’ve named Jacques “Jacquot” Frater Bucky Barnes. Shipping Enjolras-as-Captain-France with Grantaire-as-Iron-Man over Enjolras-as-Captain-France with sorta-OMC-as-a-Bucky-Similar-Character is not my way of coming down on the side of Stony versus Stucky.
> 
> If this disclaimer seems silly or irrelevant, I apologize, but I know how deeply feelings can run on either ship in the Marvel fandom and I would never intentionally alienate those who are wonderful enough to read my fics. And for the record, I ship any ship that involves Steve Rogers having lots and lots of sex ;)
> 
> With that said, parts of this are vaguely NSFW with my usual hints at smut without actually writing it. 
> 
> Other than that, the usual disclaimer applies because I continue to not own anything, despite my vast profits from fanfic writing. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

“Five international treaties,” Valjean said quietly, massaging his temples as if it might somehow alleviate what looked like a killer headache, “over a dozen national laws, and approximately 96 local and state laws. That’s how many laws you broke during the course of this whole  _unauthorized_ mission in the States. Do I even need to tell you how deep of shit you’re in, or what problems you’ve caused for this organization?”

Both Enjolras and Grantaire shook their heads, though Enjolras had a forced innocent look on his face and Grantaire looked as if he was hiding a smirk. “No, sir,” Enjolras said.

Valjean leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Do either of you even regret what happened?”

“I regret greatly that Enjolras and the rest of Les Avengers had to come assist me in taking down the criminal Montparnasse, who had amassed an army of Iron Man-esque suits with the intent of killing numerous civilians,” Grantaire said carefully. “But I don’t regret Les Avengers and Enjolras assisting me in taking down Montparnasse. He needed to be stopped, and this organization—”

Enjolras laid a hand on Grantaire’s arm, stopping him from continuing down that line of thought. “If we had asked S.H.I.E.L.D. for permission, we would not have able to help in time, and who  _knows_  what might have happened,” he said quietly. “Besides, almost all of the damage was done on private property, property owned by the company in which Grantaire continues to own majority shares, and they’ve waived our liability, as has the United States government. I’m sure S.H.I.E.L.D. can take care of the international community.”

He said it in such a way that it seemed like a flattering statement more than anything, and Valjean shook his head ruefully. “You two are going to be the death of me,” he said mournfully, gathering up his papers. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind about grounding both of you indefinitely.”

Enjolras and Grantaire both inclined their heads and left his office, making it outside before Grantaire burst out in giggles. “That statement would have had a lot more teeth if it hadn’t been delivered from a desk that I purchased, in an office in a building that I own. Not to mention he sounds like a disgruntled father, threatening to ground us.”

Though Enjolras also laughed, he nonetheless nudged Grantaire in the ribs (gently, cognizant of Grantaire’s injuries not yet healed from their encounter with Montparnasse). “Don’t let Agent Cosette hear you say that,” he said warningly. “And while  _you_  may lack the ability to be grounded, the rest of your team isn’t so lucky, so keep that in mind.”

Grantaire sighed. “You’re right,” he grumbled before adding a particularly morose, “as usual.” He raised an eyebrow at Enjolras. “Though I did notice that you seemed unwilling to tell Valjean what we learned about S.H.I.E.L.D. and its financing of illegal operations.”

Enjolras glanced at him. “It didn’t seem prudent to mention it just yet,” he said in a low tone. “We have a lot more investigating to do to figure out where this came from and under whose orders, and in the meantime, I’m not inclined to alert anyone high up in S.H.I.E.L.D. — even someone as trustworthy as Valjean — in case they decide to use this opportunity to hide their tracks.”

“So nefarious,” Grantaire said, impressed, his good mood bouncing back as he hooked an arm around Enjolras’s waist. “So in the meantime, I can think of one very important thing that we should take care of.”

Snorting, Enjolras said wryly, “I’m assuming what you have in mind doesn’t involve scouring S.H.I.E.L.D. expense records to find who funded Montparnasse.”

Grantaire waggled his eyebrows at him and tugged him in the direction of the elevator that would take them up to the living quarters. “You assume correctly,” he said cheerfully. “Because you see, I made sure to ask the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor when he was examining me on the way back if I was cleared for all physical activity, and then verified that all physical activity included throwing my boyfriend down on the bed and—”

“And saving the rest of that statement for private,” Enjolras said hurriedly, as one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents walking the opposite way down the hallway gave them an odd look. Grantaire was grinning again and even Enjolras couldn’t help but smile. “Though since you said that the doctor cleared you for it…”

Grantaire’s eyes darkened and his grin turned lascivious as he all but bodily shoved Enjolras into the elevator, crowding him against the wall and whispering, “Vive la France”, before kissing him, hard.

The kiss was open-mouthed and heady, matched by Grantaire tugging Enjolras’s shirt from where it was tucked into his khakis and Enjolras making a positively obscene noise while grabbing Grantaire’s ass through his jeans. They were practically rutting against each other, and neither could say how far they would have gone — it wouldn’t have been their first time having sex in the elevators of Avengers Tower — were it not for JARVIS, who took that moment to interrupt with a smooth, “Sir, are you intending on returning to your bedroom or to Enjolras’s?”

Grantaire groaned and rested his forehead against Enjolras’s. “JARVIS, I swear to God I will disable you if you keep choosing such times to interrupt,” he said hoarsely. “You will go the same way as Butterfingers. I will  _literally delete_  your code from the entire hard drive, I will—”

“Your room it is, sir,” JARVIS said, sounding far too amused, and Enjolras hid his laughter by sucking a fantastic hickie onto Grantaire’s neck. “As always, I greatly enjoy your idle threats.”

The elevator started moving and Grantaire braced himself against the wall, hissing with equal parts pain and delight as Enjolras bit down on a particularly sensitive spot. “Christ above,” he gasped, and Enjolras chuckled darkly. “You know, for a few moments there, I wasn’t sure we would ever get a chance to do this again.”

Enjolras stilled, and he pushed Grantaire away just slightly, his brow furrowed. “You know, thinking about how you almost died is, shockingly, not the most sexy thoughts you could be instilling in me right now.”

Though Grantaire’s expression became slightly more serious, he nonetheless asked calmly, “I’m so sorry, do you need my help making the little soldier stand to attention?”, while reaching down to palm Enjolras through his pants.

“You are hereby ordered to never call my penis ‘the little soldier’ again,” Enjolras growled, though he broke off with a muffled curse when Grantaire continued to stroke the hard outline of his cock and bent to kiss Grantaire again, his own hand dipping below the waistband of Grantaire’s jeans, pausing when he realized— “Are you not wearing underwear?”

“Oops,” Grantaire said, grinning devilishly as the elevator came to stop. “What do you say we move this to the bedroom?”

Enjolras didn’t even say a word, just grabbing Grantaire’s hand and dragging him from the elevator. They barely separated the entire way to the bedroom, lips crushing together with increased intensity the closer they got to the room. Along the way, Grantaire finally managed to get Enjolras’s shirt off, running his hands almost gleefully down the perfect planes of Enjolras’s chest, while Enjolras gave up on trying to unzip Grantaire’s jeans since his fingers didn’t seem to work right and instead settled for using his supersoldier strength to simply shuck them down, though he paused when Grantaire almost tripped. “Well that’s not going to work,” Enjolras huffed, and looked him up and down for a moment before picking Grantaire up and carrying him to the bedroom.

Grantaire let out a squeak and smacked Enjolras’s chest. “What do you think you’re doing?” he protested, though his protests were weak since Enjolras had successfully divested Grantaire of his jeans and was using the hand not supporting Grantaire’s weight to creep teasingly up his inner thigh. “Put me down, you ass, I can walk just fine.”

“Nope,” Enjolras said, a little smugly, and silenced any further protestations by covering Grantaire’s mouth with his while also closing his hand around Grantaire’s already-hard cock.

It seemed like an eternity before Enjolras deposited Grantaire on the bed and climbed on after him, Grantaire still in his shirt but with no pants, and Enjolras still with his khakis on but shirtless, and Grantaire nosed his way down Enjolras’s barely visible happy trail, pausing when he got to his pants and, after giving Enjolras a particularly shit-eating grin, unzipping Enjolras’s pants with his lips. Enjolras groaned and clenched the sheets in his fists to keep from bucking up against Grantaire’s mouth. “I always said your mouth was going to get you in trouble,” Enjolras gasped.

“Funny,” Grantaire said, licking a stripe up Enjolras’s suddenly too-tight briefs, “and here I thought my mouth was going to get me  _out_  of trouble.”

Enjolras growled and rolled his hips upward. “Just keep your mind on the mission,” he said jokingly, letting out a whine when this caused Grantaire to suddenly stop and sit up. “That was not the mission I had in mind.”

Grantaire shook his head. “No but you just reminded me of something. When you sent Marius to talk to me, you told him to tell me not to jeopardize the mission, and you said I would know what that meant.” Enjolras just stared at him as if waiting for a question, and Grantaire sighed and told him, “I didn’t have a damn clue what that meant, so I was just wondering…”

Sighing heavily, Enjolras sat up as well, running a hand through his hair. “Are we really doing this now?” he asked, sounding a little strained, and when Grantaire just pursed his lips, he sighed again. “I honestly did figure that you would know what it meant, since I thought you knew pretty much all there was to know about the France Combattante.”

Grantaire frowned. “You’re really stretching my World War II knowledge here,” he joked, though his expression was serious. “The France combattante was the overarching name given to French resistance and external pushback against the Nazis, right?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Technically, yes, but for our purposes, it has a much narrower scope. The Conseil de défense de l’Empire formed a covert commando group to fight against Nazi forces with the assistance of British and American intelligence following the Appel du 18 juin, and for convenience sake, called it the France Combattante. The name was co-opted for the larger French forces later.”

“Ok,” Grantaire said slowly, clearly trying to figure out what this had to do with his question. “And I’m assuming this has something to do with the missions you did in Europe?”

“Most of my missions in Europe were directly in conjunction with them,” Enjolras told him. “It’s one of the reasons that I was chosen for the serum project in the first place, since they knew they needed someone to bridge the two continents and I had an unusual amount of experience with France for an American citizen.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him and Enjolras sighed before elaborating, “My father was born in France, and we frequently summered there while I was growing up, before tensions grew too strong. I’ve always had a strong connection to France that I was determined to disavow in order to join the army, as well as wanting to disavow my personal connection to my parents’ riches. But, well, they needed me, and I needed—”

He broke off, his expression suddenly blank, and Grantaire frowned. “What?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry. “What did you need?” When Enjolras’s expression didn’t change, Grantaire asked softly, “ _Who_  did you need?”

Enjolras bowed his head and took a long moment before saying quietly, “Jacquot Frater.”

“I’m sorry?”

Glancing up at Grantaire, Enjolras said in a slightly louder voice, “Jacquot Frater. Or — Jacques Frater, I suppose, if you want to be formal.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Jacques is more formal than Jacquot?” When Enjolras just looked at him, he sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. “I swear to God, I will never understand French.” Then he looked back at Enjolras. “So who is Jacquot Frater? And what does he have to do with your time in Europe?”

“He has everything to do with my time in Europe,” Enjolras said quietly. “He was my best friend growing up. His family lived next door to my family’s summer home. He was older than me by a little bit and back then, pre-serum, he was  _definitely_  bigger and stronger than me. Smarter too, or at least I’d like to think.” He fell quiet before repeating, “He was my best friend.”

“And you loved him,” Grantaire finished, understanding.

Enjolras glanced up at him and smiled slightly. “And I loved him. He was my first for so many things: my first kiss, my first fuck, and absolutely my first love, even before duty and country and honor. Those things all came later, after…”

He trailed off again, but Grantaire seemed to realize where he was going with it. “After you lost him. After he died?”

Nodding slowly, Enjolras looked away, his expression distant, as if he was remembering their time together, which he was, because it seemed seared in his memory more even than many of his other memories from those days…

* * *

 

_“I brought you a beer,” Jacquot said, sliding onto the barstool next to Enjolras at the only bar in this part of France that still seemed to be serving some semblance of food and liquor. “You should drink something. You look awful.”_

_Enjolras glanced over at him and half-smiled. “Alcohol doesn’t affect me now,” he reminded him. “And I never did like it much anyway.”_

_Jacquot shrugged and took a sip of his own beer before propping his chin on his hand and examining Enjolras closely. “You seem sad,” he observed. “And I can’t think of any reason why you should be, since just a few days ago you rescued me from where I was being held by Nazi-aligned forces.”_

_“They weren’t just Nazi-aligned forces,” Enjolras said quietly. “They were agents of O.R.L.E.A.N.S., and you should see some of the things that they and their leader have done across Europe. Besides, getting you back doesn’t erase the fact that I had to in the first place.”_

_“Ah,” Jacquot said in understanding, “so you’re_ brooding _. I get it. Carry on.”_

 _He took another sip of his beer and Enjolras growled low in his throat. “Don’t trivialize this,” he snapped. “Don’t laugh this off. You could have_ died _, do you not get that? You could have—”_

_Jacquot covered his hand with one of his own. “But I didn’t,” he said softly. “I didn’t die. You saved me. Even though you shouldn’t have. Because you shouldn’t jeopardize your mission like that, not when what you do is so much more important.” Enjolras shook his head and started to retort, but Jacquot cut him off. “There’s no use arguing with me,” he said firmly. “I am very glad you did, but from now on, remember this: don’t jeopardize the mission. Understood?”_

_Enjolras didn’t look happy still but he nodded, and Jacquot drained his beer and stood, offering Enjolras his hand. “Now that’s settled, dance with me.”_

_“Here?” Enjolras asked._

_“Sure,” Jacquot said easily. “Who’s going to see us?” Enjolras let Jacquot pull him to his feet and reluctantly took his place across from him as Jacquot frowned up at him. “This was easier when I was taller than you.” Enjolras laughed, and Jacquot grinned. “And that’s what I like to see. Captain America shouldn’t be brooding.”_

_Enjolras rolled his eyes but let Jacquot steer him around the dancefloor to the music that played only in their heads. “I’m thinking of changing my title, actually,” he murmured. “Captain France seems a bit more fitting given everything, don’t you think?”_

_“I think the American government and military might have a few problems with that,” Jacquot pointed out, though he pulled him a little closer. “And if this thought has anything to do with me, I must remind you: Don’t jeopardize the mission.”_

_Again Enjolras looked as if he wanted to say something, but he settled for shaking his head, his hand warm against Jacquot’s back. “I hate the mustache, by the way.”_

_Jacquot just laughed. “That’s too bad,” he said, leaning in so that the mustache in question tickled Enjolras’s ear as he added, “because I’m thinking of keeping it.”_

* * *

 

“So he used to tell you that,” Grantaire said, nodding in understanding.

“Oh, yeah,” Enjolras said, nodding as well. “All the time. He used to be protective of me because he remembered what I was like before, but whenever I tried to protect him, especially from O.R.L.E.A.N.S. since that was so far beyond what either of us had ever dealt with, that was always what he would tell me. It became a sort of shorthand for us whenever we thought the other was about to do something particularly stupid or dangerous. And it was the last thing he said to me before—”

He broke off, his expression darkening, and Grantaire wordlessly reached out to grab his hand and squeeze it. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Sorry that you lost your best friend. And sorry that I didn’t know — my father, well, he didn’t like to talk about that part of the war.”

Enjolras managed a small smile and squeezed his hand back. “It was a long time ago,” he said, voice equally soft. “And a lot’s happened since. I have Combeferre and Courfeyrac, after all, and the rest of the Amis. And, of course, I have you.”

Grantaire couldn’t help but smile at that and leaned in to kiss Enjolras lightly. “When you and he were together, was your relationship anything like you and I?” he asked in a teasing tone, and Enjolras snorted and shook his head.

“Definitely not. But I was a very different person back then with less convictions. I may have been considering becoming Captain France, but I didn’t have any concept of what that would mean, or any conviction about France as a nation. You probably wouldn’t have recognized me back then, and I doubt you would have felt the same, or that I would have toward you.” He kissed Grantaire, running a hand down his side. “But I am who I am now, and I’m Captain France for a reason. And I also love you for a reason.”

Grantaire rolled on top of Enjolras and kissed him deeply. “There’s nothing I love more than when you say that,” he sighed, and Enjolras grinned and tugged Grantaire’s shirt up and over his head before skimming his fingers up Grantaire’s sides, lingering on the still-visible bruises. “I’m fine,” Grantaire told him seriously, capturing Enjolras’s hands with his own. “I promise. I’m not jeopardizing anything at the moment.”

“Well in that case,” Enjolras muttered, flipping them in one smooth motion so that he was straddling Grantaire, who grinned. Enjolras quickly tugged his own pants and underwear off and tossed them aside before leaning back over Grantaire and kissing him slowly. “Now, where were we?”

Grantaire’s grin turned wicked and he rolled his hips upward, Enjolras gasping when Grantaire’s half-hard cock brushed against his. “I believe we were somewhere around here,” Grantaire muttered, and Enjolras leaned down to kiss him while working a hand between them to take both in hand.

He caught Grantaire’s resulting moan in his mouth and grinned against Grantaire’s lips, stroking them both in a slow, teasing rhythm that had Grantaire gasping, his hips canting upward off the bed. “And I was just about to—” he started, until—

“Sir.”

Grantaire groaned, his fingernails digging into Enjolras’s back. “You have got to be  _fucking_  kidding me right now, JARVIS.”

“I recognize from your pheromone levels that this may be an inopportune time to tell you, but before you left for the States, you ordered me to replace the soundproofing panels in your bedroom, and while the panels have been removed, they have yet to be replaced.”

Now Enjolras groaned, dropping his head down to rest against Grantaire’s shoulder. “JARVIS, are you telling me that everyone in Avengers Tower can hear us?”

JARVIS hesitated before saying tactfully, “I believe Combeferre is far enough towards the roof that he may not be able to hear you.”

“Jesus  _fucking_  Christ,” Grantaire swore. “I swear to God, JARVIS, I’m gonna—”

“Fuck it,” Enjolras said, kissing Grantaire mid-sentence as Grantaire tried to continue spluttering threats. “Seriously. Fuck it.”

Grantaire pulled away and frowned. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You want to, ah, carry on? Even though all of our friends and a decent number of S.H.I.E.L.D. employees will potentially be able to hear us?” Enjolras grinned and Grantaire sighed. “I feel like now is the time I should be telling you to not jeopardize the mission…”

“Now is the time to remind you that this is far beyond the parameters of any mission,” Enjolras growled, kissing the mark he had previously made on Grantaire’s neck. “So are you with me, or am I doing this on my own?”

In lieu of an answer, Grantaire pulled Enjolras down and kissed him, and it took only a few minutes for both men to forget about the missing soundproofing panels.

It took their friends only a few minutes beyond that to scramble for headphones, earplugs, or whatever other audio-blocking devices they could find.

* * *

 

Somewhere in the Pyrenees mountains, a lone figure leaned casually against what looked like a solid rock face and knocked in a specialized pattern of a dozen knocks. The rock face slid instantly and silently into the side of the mountain, and the man walked inside. “You’re back,” a second man said, inside the opening, the embroidered letters on his uniform spellings O.R.L.E.A.N.S. “We weren’t expected you for another few days.”

The first man remained silent, almost impassive as he stared at the second man as if looking right through him, and the second man shifted uncomfortably. “Everything went according to plan then? The mission is complete?”

“It’s done,” the first man said, speaking for the first time in a voice that bore no room for argument or question. “Do I have another mission?”

“Yes, you’ve been given a new assignment.” The second man handed him a folder, his tone turning brisk. “You are to bring him down by any means necessary. The powers that be believe that he is going to be on the lookout for O.R.L.E.A.N.S. operatives in S.H.I.E.L.D., which makes this very time sensitive. Kill him and come back here as quickly as possible. Do you understand?”

The first man did not answer, instead opening the folder and looking hard at the picture of the blond man paperclipped to the inside of the folder, something almost like recognition flitting across his face, and with a gesture that did not seem his own, reached up to smooth his rather impressive mustache. “I said, Sergeant Frater, do you understand?”

Jacquot Frater looked up from the folder, any hint of recognition gone, replaced by steely resolve. “I understand. I have to kill Enjolras.”


End file.
